just like that, the tension disappeared from the room. Berryville let out a relieved sigh and motioned William forward. “Have a seat. Get you a drink?” He made a beeline for the bar.
“Sure,” William said, glancing at the empty seats. “I’ll have a—”
There was a sudden scuffle out in the hallway, and the door opened, slamming against the wall with a bang. A big guy in his midtwenties wearing a black-on-black driver’s uniform shoved a struggling, swearing woman into the room.
An older man, neat in a silver-gray suit, followed behind, tugging at his cuffs. He looked up and smiled faintly. “Look what we found snooping around outside.”
William was so deep in character that his first reaction was anger at the interruption. Then he got a good look at the woman—who was wearing all black, with pixie-short hair and two earrings in one ear—and his blood ran cold.
Oh, Christ. It was Ike.
She stopped struggling and glared around the room. Her eyes passed over him without a flicker of recognition, and damned if that didn’t tick him off almost as much as her pigheaded stupidity at being there in the first place.
William was careful to keep the emotions out of his eyes even as adrenaline flared in his bloodstream. You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you? he thought with a mental snarl. You couldn’t trust this to Max and me.
“What are you going to do with her?” asked one of the seated men.
The guy who’d come in with Ike looked pointedly at William before he said, “We can’t afford witnesses. I’m thinking we should kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” He held out a hand to his driver, who passed over a mean-looking Glock. The older man racked the weapon, popped the clip out and tucked it in his pocket, then checked the chamber and offered the gun to William butt first.
The challenge was clear. One bullet. Enough to kill the spy, not enough to fight his way out of the room.
When William didn’t move, the man said, “Make your choice. Are you with us or against us?”
IKE’S BLOOD FROZE when William looked at her, expression cold and calculating. She recognized Max’s irascible partner from the multiple times they’d butted heads at Boston General and from a quick sighting at Zed’s funeral that she’d later tried to tell herself was her imagination. But now that she saw him again, she knew her mind hadn’t been playing tricks on her. She’d recognized him then and now by the contrast of cool blue eyes and brush-cut brown hair, by the aggressive jut of his jaw beneath sharp cheekbones and by the leashed power in his every movement, which supported the whispered rumors that he knew ancient fighting arts that didn’t even have names anymore and that he could kill a man with a touch.
Oh, yes. She recognized William Caine.
Apparently she hadn’t made nearly the same impression, though, because he took the Glock without hesitation.
Don’t do it! she wanted to scream. Rememberme? I’m Ike. I’m Max’s friend!
Instead she remained mute, paralyzed with fear as he raised the weapon and pointed it at her. He tightened his finger on the trigger—
“Run!” he shouted and fired.
Ike jerked, and for a split second she thought he’d shot her. Then she realized the movement had come from the big guy behind her. His grip slackened and he pitched to the floor.
She didn’t stick around to watch him hit. Instead she bolted through the door as all hell broke loose behind her.
William yelled something. Flesh smacked against flesh, and a door slammed. Heavy footfalls chased her. Caught up to her. A strong hand gripped her upper arm, and William’s deep voice shouted, “Hurry!”
She would’ve snapped that she was hurrying, but just then they rounded the corner leading to the main stairs and came face-to-face with two old dudes in suits, along with a pair of the black-clad bodyguards.
Instead of slowing, Ike put her head down and barreled between the two old guys. Amidst a storm of shouts and curses, one of them stumbled and went down, deflecting a bodyguard as he lunged for William.
Breath whistling between her teeth, Ike slid down the last few steps to the landing, where the stairs faced the front door. She skidded, hooked a left and bolted for the back of the building. She’d stuck her Jeep beside the golf course’s pro shop. If they made it that far, they’d—
“Ike, no! This way!” William shouted.
She faltered and turned back, only to see another uniformed bodyguard burst through the front door and launch himself at William. The men went down in a tangle, while two more thugs charged down the stairs.
Knowing she couldn’t leave William behind, she grabbed for her weapon and came up empty. Her captor had disarmed her. Unable to think of a better way to give William a chance, she reversed direction, charged back up the hallway and yelled as she caromed off the two guys coming down the stairs.
Somehow she stayed on her feet and kept going, straight down an unfamiliar hallway, with heavy footsteps thudding in her wake. Then gunfire barked and a bullet smashed into the wall beside her.
Ike ducked through the next door she came to, praying it had a lock on the inside.
It did, but not much of one. Chest heaving with exertion, pulse drumming in her head, she shot the flimsy bolt before she turned and surveyed her options. Her stomach sank when she saw where she’d ended up. The tiny room was little more than a closet with a bucket and mop in one corner, a drawerlike door set in the wall and a small, night-darkened window.
She muttered a curse as she opened the drop down door to reveal a dark, narrow laundry chute that presumably led to the basement. But what if it doesn’t? a little voice asked. Or what if there’s no way out from there?
Logically, there was a way out, but logic didn’t get her very far when it came to small, dark spaces. Her throat closed in on itself, and she swallowed hard as the dark square seemed to expand, reaching for her.
Gunshots sounded in the hallway, along with male shouts and curses. Then footsteps thudded to a halt outside her hiding spot, and before she could brace herself, a shot plowed through the door below the knob and punched through the window. A second shot ripped the lock half off.
She was out of time and options.
Praying the door would hold for a few more seconds, she flipped the rinse bucket over beneath the window, grabbed the mop and slammed the handle against the broken window. The impact sang up her arms and vibrated in her hands, but she drew back and let fly again. The glass gave just as the guys in the hall rammed the door and she heard the sound of splintering wood.
“Come on, come on!” she chanted under her breath as she used the mop handle to punch out the pointy shards of glass. Then there was no time left. The door shuddered, sagged and fell inward, revealing three black-clad men on the other side.
Ike jumped up onto the bucket, grabbed the window sash and heaved herself through. She felt sharp points dig into her gloved hands, felt a pull in her ribs and a slice in her knee—
And
